


In the Night (The Quiet Ones Remix)

by IreneADonovan



Series: Dreams and Delusions [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Animalistic, Biting, Blood, Dreams, Dubious Consent, Hunting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Hank hunts in his dreams...





	In the Night (The Quiet Ones Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Quiet Ones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/343050) by [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q). 
  * In response to a prompt by [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q) in the [xmen_remix_madness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2018) collection. 



> WARNING! While this story does not contain the full-on rape of the original, the consent given is quite dubious, as it may be being given by the wrong person. READ WITH CAUTION!

The mansion floors were cold under the beast's paws, despite the carpets; cold air seeped through every crack and chink in the century-old house. Drafts swirled and eddied through the corridors, ruffling his fur, igniting his nerve endings.

He crept up the stairs, feline-silent, having already scented his prey – traces of fine-milled soaps and designer cologne overlaid with the faint musk of his prey's own scent.

He entered silently, observing for a minute. The prey lay, alone and unsuspecting, in his bedroom, deep in a drugged sleep, unaware, vulnerable. His hair was sleep-tousled; his plump red lips, parted ever so slightly. He lay on his back, chest rising and falling with the soft susurrations of his breathing. The covers were pulled up to the middle of his chest, one arm was flung out to the side, and the other curled over his stomach.

The room was warm, too warm, with the cloying aridity that came with artificial heat, He wanted to go to a window, fling open the sash, gulp in great lungfuls of fresh air, heavy with the promise of snow, and he began to turn, only to halt when his prey murmured something unintelligible even to a beast's ears.

He crossed the room in an effortless bound, stripped the covers back.

Blue eyes blinked open, illumined by the wan moonlight. He saw no fear in those cerulean orbs. Yet there should be. Shouldn't there? He was an animal now.

Cherry lips curved into a soft smile. “Go ahead. Take what you need. You won't hurt me.”

He knew that wasn't true. His prey could be hurt. Had been hurt.

He ripped his prey's pajama top away, his razor-sharp claws slashing the fine blue silk to ribbons. The skin beneath was pale, shimmering in the moonlight, begging to be marked.

He bit one fair shoulder, felt his fangs slice through skin into the flesh below. His prey didn't pull away, just gave a low hiss. He tasted the salt of skin, the metallic tang of blood,arousing him, inflaming him.

He nipped at his prey's throat, licked the long column of his neck, bit at first one nipple then the other. His prey arched and writhed beneath him.

The beast was hungry, would not be denied. He seized the waistband of his prey's pajama pants, rent the thin fabric, revealing more satiny, unmarked skin, his for the taking.

Still, his prey showed no fear.

He bent, took his prey's cock in his mouth, sucked roughly at it. It didn't respond, and that confused him, angered him. A sliver of rationality tried to cut its way through animal need, offering explanation, but he shoved it aside.

He flipped his prey over, exposing more creamy skin, a firm, round ass just perfect for biting. So he bit, canines tearing, marking fair flesh. Mine. Mine. Mine.

His tongue circled his prey's hole, scent and taste nearly driving the beast mad. He inhaled, closed his eyes, rode the wave of sensation for a moment.

His own cock was hard and leaking, aching to bury itself in his prey, and he would deny it no longer. Wetting himself with saliva and his prey's own blood, he pushed in with no other preparation.

His prey's ass closed tight around him as he pounded into it. His prey took the punishment wordlessly. He pumped once, twice, three more times, came with a feline yowl.

He bit the back of his prey's shoulder, marking him one final time, then pulled out and stalked off.

*****

Charles woke as soft dawnlight seeped through his windows. He stretched languidly, cursed as the fiery ache in his lower back jolted him the rest of the way awake.

With a sigh, he pushed back the covers and sat up to begin the laborious process of getting ready to face the day. Hank would be in soon to help him, and that was good.

Memories of his dreams drifted through his mind, the pain of his claiming ghosting along nerves that no longer functioned, except in memory, except in dreams.

He really should put a stop to this shared dreaming soon. This couldn't be good for either of them in the long run, though for now it filled a need. Physical pain, physical punishment, albeit in dream form. They both had ghosts haunting them, both had demons they needed to exorcise.

But ghosts and demons seldom co-operated.


End file.
